In the Dark of the Night
by kqshipalot
Summary: Victorian Era AU. Vampire!Bash. He was the darkness that claimed the night. She was the Countess, the wife of Count Blackthorne, who fell under his spell.
1. Prologue-France 1560

** READ: Now before you all chew me out for starting a new Mash fic without having finished the other two, have no fear. I work at an office at my school and we're not open again until August, so that and only night classes gives me an excuse to dodge the bright sun by staying inside and writing.**

** This fic is not like my other two. This one is dark, and so is Bash (he's a vampire, not a fairy) and rated M for that reason. So if you're reading this and you're under 16 or whatever is the age limit on fanfiction, then don't tell me. This first chapter is Bash becoming a vampire. He is also older- mid to late 20s, while Mary is young, 18-20. **

** Disclaimer: I do now own Reign, the characters, France, or vampires. I blame tumblr's winter-rose and mrsariayoureakiller for encouraging this. **

_France-December 6, 1560_

_ She was dying. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. His heart wished to take the pain from her, but it was not God's will for her to live. _

_ "Find the light," she breathed. "Find it, my son."_

_ "Please," he begs her, holding her hand. "Please do not go."_

_ The woman smiles at him, the strength leaving her body. "Do you promise?"_

_ "I promise," he whispers, clutching her hand harder than ever. "Mother..."_

_ Her smile is weak now. "Find her but quench your thirst until there is a thirst inside her as well - for you," she coughs, her son holding her as she does. "Take care, my brave son, or you will bleed for a girl who will never be yours."_

_ "What does that mean?" he asks her as she closes her eyes. "Mother, what does that even mean?!" His voice is louder now, hoping she opens her eyes, just so he can see her green orbs one last time. He searches her face, hoping for any sign of movement. _

_ There is none. _

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

He buried her shortly after her passing. He buried her next to the wife he had lost to the same illness days before he had lost his mother.

The mother he had never told about his illness. It seemed to be God's will that he go to.

There was very little time for him to live, he knew this. And yet, he did not care. Why should he? His mother was gone, his wife was gone; a life taken in the blink of an eye. Images of his mother on her deathbed haunted him as he buried her.

_Find the light_.

She was crazy. There was no light that day, nor any other day of this winter.

_Find her_.

Find her. A girl who was the light. He had had a wife, how could he find another one to bring the light back? How could his mother have asked him to move on days after her death? Bitterly, Sebastian separated the snow from the dirt and placed the dirt on his mother's grave. There were no flowers this time of year, only blankets of snow and branches from dead trees to place around her grave.

So he went into the forest near the cottage he and his wife had shared with his mother.

Night was falling. The forests were known for the danger hidden in them, but Sebastian did not care. Let them kill him. He was close enough to death as it were.

_Find her but quench your thirst until there is a thirst inside her as well- for you. _

That made the least sense of all. Was there a girl who would have such a thirst for a sickly man like himself? His mother had spent her last minute spewing rubbish because of her illness.

_Take care, my brave son, or you will bleed for a girl who will never be yours_.

He was never going to bleed for anyone, not while he lay in his grave.

Sebastian reached up the smallest tree and picked the last living leaves off the branch that hung above his head. He followed his footsteps back to the cottage.

And he walked. Until a twig snapped.

Sebastian looked around.

"I will be dead shortly, if that is what you wish!" He called out into the mist. His throat hurt. "So you may come out and face me!"

His mother had always said he was rash.

Silence greeted him.

Perhaps it was the illness getting into his head.

Sebastian returned to the two graves. The one of his wife was no longer covered in the leaves he had lain days earlier. Snow covered every inch of her grave. He placed one leaf on the snow of his wife's grave, and placed the other two leaves on his mother's.

"Time to start my own grave," he muttered to himself.

He took the shovel that he had placed inside the house and began to dig. It began to snow again when the darkness fell.

Sebastian went inside and fell to the floor. It was no use.

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

_Two Days Later_

Sebastian lay in the bed he had shared with his wife, experiencing the exact final moments that she had been through nearly a week ago. Only this time, nobody was around to say good-bye. He refused to go through it again. Death in the woods seemed more appropriate, as he had loved to hide there as a child. His mother humored him as much as she could and only the words "no supper if you do not come out!" would have him running from the woods into their home.

Sebastian sat down next to his favorite tree. In the Spring, it would grow the pink roses that his mother would take and place on the table. His mother told him the roses were to be treasured and only taken to ensure that the beauty around them was preserved.

But now it was as dead as everything around him.

Night was falling.

Anytime now. Bash closed his eyes and tried to remember the memories he had of his mother and his wife. The wedding day had not been a cause for a celebration as it was a marriage they had been forced into. Of course, they had grown to admire and respect one another, but it had not been that way in the beginning. Her father was passing at that time and wished for nothing more than to see his daughter married, with a fortune in her name. She had done as he wished when he decided upon Sebastian to be the husband to his daughter. The fortune was gone in seconds, when her family's estate burned to the ground. Sebastian had him and his wife live with his mother, much to his wife's displeasure.

Despite the many disagreements between him and his wife that had followed when it happened, he and his mother had been at her bedside when she passed.

A twig snapped. Just as it had two days earlier.

Sebastian opened his eyes. He tore off a branch from the tree and stood up. He was weak, but he was not going to go down sitting quietly.

"I know you're there!" he yelled, the pain in his throat preventing his voice from rising as much as he wanted it to. He knew he was not imagining anything. Hallucinations were not caused from the illness.

The only sound he heard was the struggled breathing he could muster.

Another twig snapped. This one was much closer.

Sebastian took a deep breath and turned around.

All he saw was a younger man with blonde locks and red eyes before darkness overtook him with blunt force.

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

"Where is he?"

"In there."

"Unspoiled, I hope?"

"I do not know how unspoiled one can be when they are mere minutes from death."

"I told you, I wanted him unspoiled," the deeper voice belonged to an older man. The other belonged to a younger man. Both were getting closer.

"He wanted to fight."

"A man who wants to fight when he is so close to death? I do believe we have a winner."

"He did tear off a branch when he was calling to me."

"And you could tear off his arms and legs so easily, it would make the King's best men look like small mice," the older man snarled.

Sebastian struggled to open his eyes. The pain. . .

"Look Father!" the younger man cried out. "He is waking!"

Sebastian was able to open both his eyes. How dare those two men take his last minute's of peace away from him. He felt too weak to stand. Whatever he had been hit with did some good. He couldn't fight back.

The two men stood around the bed they had placed him on (how kind of them to put him somewhere comfortable). The younger man had been the one Sebastian had come across in the forest. Blonde locks framed his face, the redness is in his eyes, replaced by blue.

Sebastian knew he had not imagined the redness that had been in the young man's eyes.

The older man had lost most of his hair, his eyes were brown and cold.

"Francis, get me a towel with water," the older man snapped his fingers. "Quickly! His head is heating up."

Sebastian was also covered in sweat.

The younger man ran out of the room, faster than any being Sebastian had ever seen before, faster than the largest animal in a pack. He blinked hard to make sure he had not imagined it. But the younger man ran back in as quickly as he had gone.

The older man put the wet towel on Sebastian's forehead. "There we go, son. Better?"

"You cannot save me from death," Sebastian gasped out the words.

The two other men merely glanced at one another.

"We can," the younger one said to Sebastian.

"How?" Sebastian raised an eyebrow and tried to raise his head to look at the boy in his eyes. "By placing a towel on my head, you wish to heal me of the illness?" Sebastian placed his head on the pillow. "Have you never seen death?"

"Seen death?" the younger one repeated. "I conquered it."

"What?" the words replayed in his head.

_I conquered it_.

"Conquered death?" Bash's laugh was fading. "You talk as if death is a game."

"A game?" the chair he was holding onto broke into pieces. He started shaking and his eyes turned to the color Sebastian had seen in the forest. " Sword play is a game. And what do we use for war but swords and axes?"

"Francis," the older man interrupted calmly. "If you cannot control yourself, then I would ask that you leave the room."

The red left Francis's eyes. "I apologize, Henry."

"Your eyes," Sebastian said, coughing as he did so. "They are as if blood has been spilled onto them. Why?"

"That is a long story," Henry answered as Francis opened his mouth to speak. "Would you rather we show you instead?"

"No, that is quite all right," Sebastian told them, grinding his teeth in pain. "I do not have time for a demonstration."

"Demonstration?" Francis asked, amused. "Who said anything about a demonstration, when you can be the one to show the people?"

"Now now, Francis," Henry said, calmly, turning his head toward Francis. Bash's eyes widened. "Let us not scare him so soon." He looked back to Sebastian. "Tell us, what is your name?"

"Sebastian," he struggled to speak. There was no sense in lying when Death was at his door. "Sebastian de Poitiers."

"Fancy name," Francis said dryly. He bowed. "Francis Angoulême," he stood up from his bow, "though you must not call me that in public. You see, Francis Angoulême is dead."

"Dead? Have you taken a dead boy's name for your own?"

"I _am_ the dead boy. Francis Angoulême died a year ago, and you are looking at him right now. Let me be the one to tell you that faking death to your family is no simple task."

"Pardon?"

Francis sighed. "Henry," he pleaded to the other man to explain.

"I saved Francis from an infection," Henry turned the towel on Sebastian's forehead to the other side. "He was in the same state as you- lying in his bed, with no hope for a future. You are much more quiet than he was. He never shut up about it."

"You try having excruciating pain in your ear, see how you get along with it," Francis muttered bitterly.

"I gave him hope," Henry continued, ignoring Francis's protests. "I gave him more than hope. I gave him _life_. A new one. How has this new life fared for you, Francis?"

"It was better than my first."

Sebastian could not believe what he was hearing. He was spending his last moments with two men who spoke as if they were in a second life on the Earth.

"You see," Henry stood up to stand beside the small window, watching the snow fall. "I pick those who deserve another life. You," he turned from the window and looked at Sebastian straight in the eyes, "deserve the best. Take it," he clutched his own fist as if to show him. "Take it into your grasp and hold onto it with everything in your power."

"What are you?" Sebastian finally asked the question that had been plaguing his mind.

"It is not what we are, but _who_ we are."

"This is a load of pigs wallow."

He had believed Francis to be the one ill-tempered. But that was before Henry was at his bedside before Sebastian could blink. His eyes turned red the way Francis's had. Except instead of gripping the chair, he pulled Sebastian up by his shirt.

"Pigs wallow?" he spat in Sebastian's face. "What do you know about what we go through? Can you imagine what it's like?" the grip on his shirt tightened. "To never being able to see the light? His mouth opened, showing few teeth as sharp as a spear. "Would you like me to describe the torture of being one of the very few that is damned to live such a life? Or would you like me to allow you to live the life, to see it for yourself?" The sharp teeth went back to their smaller size as Henry released his grip on Sebastian and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"What do you say?" Francis appeared calm, next to Henry's rage.

"Will it hurt?" Sebastian's voice was but a whisper.

"Yes," Henry's voice dropped. "But will it not be worth it? Mere minutes of pain, for a life free of it?"

Sebastian did not want to be involved in such madness. He did not even know what Francis and Henry were, just what they had- sharp teeth, red eyes, and fast speed. But before he knew what he was agreeing to, he nodded.

"Very good," Henry lifted his head up from the pillow.

Sebastian gasped in shock when Henry bit down on his own arm. "Have you ever eaten a sheep that was killed by a wolf?"

"N-n-no," Sebastian answered, still staring at the blood coming from Henry's arm.

"That is one way to do it," Francis said to him. "It would make this much more easier if you had eaten sheep killed by wolf. Henry only has one other choice."

"Drink," Henry offered his arm to Sebastian.

"W-what?" had he heard correctly?

"Fine!" Henry was becoming angry once more, putting one hand (the one that was not bleeding) behind Sebastian's head and resting his other arm at Sebastian's mouth. "Drink!"

How had it come to this? He had only asked for one last gift before his death, and even that could not be granted. Now he would die with a stranger's blood in his body and two men giving him death by their hands.

It was over in seconds. Blood was coming down Sebastian's lips in waterfalls. He started coughing, part of it due to the illness and part due to the wish of removing the blood from his mouth. How much had Henry given him?

"I will make this quick," Henry promise.

"We will be here when you awake," Francis added.

Henry placed his hands around Sebastian's neck.

_Snap_.

Night carried on. Before the sun was rising, Henry and Francis moved Sebastian to where they called home. It was dark, cold, and wet. In the day, Henry would sleep in his coffin while Francis watched over Sebastian. Then they would switch out and it was Francis sleeping as Henry waited for Sebastian to awaken.

"Henry, this is starting to bore," Francis said as night fell. "When will he open his eyes?"

"Soon. The night has just begun," Henry smiled at his "Son." But it was not a gentle smile. Rather one that belonged to a cruel man with death on his mind. "Would you like to help me train him? It was most fun when I taught you how to feed and use your abilities, but all the excitement wore me down. Besides, why not share that excitement?"

They had just turned their backs when they heard a loud gasp.

Sebastian opened his eyes.

Francis and Henry were at his side in a second.

"Is that what I looked like?" Francis asked Henry, his brow furrowing. "I looked like a monster."

"Do not," Henry took Francis by the throat. "Use. That. Word." He let go of his throat and looked at Sebastian. "Everything went perfectly."

"Can you see?" Francis asked Sebastian.

"Dark," his voice was quiet, almost too quiet for the others to hear.

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" Francis looked at the walls of their lair. The were of stone, cold and wet from years of use and uncared. "You need not worry. All of your senses will be heightened."

Sebastian nodded weakly.

"Can you hear us?"

Another weak nod.

"You must be hungry," Henry suggested. "Francis, I will go and get us some food. Wait here with him, and try to keep him under control."

"I will," Francis sat on the stone floor.

"Where am I?" Sebastian sat up, slowly.

"Home," Francis looked around. "Try to get comfortable, this is where we will be for a long time."

Sebastian's eyes were very red. "This place is dark, and yet-"

"You can see everything as if you were standing in the sun? We stay in the dark Sebastian, you cannot go into the sunlight. Do you hear me? Stay out of the light."

"What happens if I go to it?"

"You die."

Sebastian looked up at Francis. He could hear everything around him, from the rat on the other side of the lair, to the deer outside in the woods. If he could hear everything, then why could he not hear Francis?

"Do you not breathe?"

Francis gave him a faint smile. "As I said, Francis Angoulême is dead," He cocked his head to the side. "Besides, have you not noticed the change in you? No heartbeat, no breath."

"No light," Sebastian whispered.

"No light," Francis repeated.

They heard a sound above him. The door opened, and a man fell to the ground.

"Sebastian, this is your food," Henry said. "Try not to leave a mess," he told both Francis and Sebastian as he closed the door again.

"Where is he going?" Sebastian asked.

"To find his own," Francis answered. "Shall I show you how it's done?" He did not wait for an answer, his eyes reddening as he took the man by the arm and bit into it. The only sound was the man's screams of pain. "There!" Francis stood up, eyes returning to blue. "And now it is your turn."

"I cannot," Sebastian stepped away.

"You can," Francis frowned. "Use your teeth and have at it like a man would fresh meat."

"Do you hear yourself?" Sebastian asked, ignoring the hunger that was rising in him.

"I hear myself the way I hear everything, the way I heard you begging for your own life to end. If you so desperately want to end a life, end his. Put him out of the pain and misery he is in."

Sebastian looked at the man, who held his pwn arm in agony.

"Survive," Francis whispered.

Sebastian crawled over to the man and looked him in the eyes. "I am sorry," he whispered to the man. Then to himself, "survive." The teeth came out before he could stop it. He could hear the heartbeat of the man, beating rapids. The veins in his neck lighting up, calling out. Sebastian put his head to the man's neck and bit.

Henry came back in, this time with a woman. "There we go, son."

Sebastian showed no signs of stopping.

"Should we stop him?" Francis asked Henry. "Or did you intend to kill the man?"

"It is difficult for a man to live when he has lost so much blood," Henry kept his eyes on Sebastian feeding, his lips curling upwards. "Let Sebastian have at it for now." The two men watched.

"And the woman?" Francis looked to the woman, who crawled away from them.

Henry took her by her robes. "Shall we give Sebastian a feast? I dare say he has earned one." Sebastian stopped and looked to Henry, who smiled as a proud father would to a son. "I brought another treat for you." He showed her to Sebastian.

"No," he refused. "One was enough."

Henry frowned, and let go of the woman to look Sebastian in the eye. "I can take back what I gave. Do it," his voice was low.

Sebastian nodded and did the same to the woman as he had the man.

"What shall we call him?" Francis asked, watching with Henry.

"The Darkness. Let us call Sebastian de Poitiers The Darkness."

And so began his eternal damnation into hell.

**Don't worry. I'll try not to mess up the Darkness storyline like the show did lol**

** So what do you think? They will be appearing in Scotland, centuries later (Victorian Era) and that is where Bash will meet Mary, a Countess. I should also mention that Diane and Kenna (the wife) died of tuberculosis. Francis is one of the vampire "children" but there will be no Frary, but we can all band together to dislike Mary's husband James. The Henry we know from the show is the Vampire "Father" and he's a little twisted, corrupting those he makes. **

**Bash became a vampire on December 8****th****. Does that date sound familiar to anyone? ;)** **And yes, that sheep thing was a way people used to believe could turn somebody into a vampire.**


	2. Scottish Highlands-1865

**Thank you for the reviews! So glad you were willing to give a vampire, Victorian Era fic a chance **

** Like I said, rated M (there's death, seduction, the Vamp Life. . . )for a reason. We have skipped centuries and gone into the Victorian Era. Takes place all around the Scottish Highlands.**

** Bash may seem OOC because he's not the sweet Bash we adore on the show, but hey, he is still loyal to those he cares for (even if it's believed that his heart is dead and cold). And anyway, what do you expect from a vampire fic? =)**

** Mary is about 18/19, Bash 26-28. **

_ Scotland- 1865_

Sebastian lifted his head and swallowed the blood, before releasing his grasp on the human. He lifted his head to bask in the moonlight, only after spitting out whatever flesh had come off the human when he had been feeding. Meals were not always pleasant.

He had spent the last several hundred years learning new ways of life. After many years of spending the nights hunting with only Henry and Francis at his side, Henry asked for more children. Sebastian had become Henry's "second-in-command" but that was not to say Francis did not have his fair share of fun as well. Henry had given the younger one the duty of finding another child. In 1610, Francis found Henry a daughter, Elizabeth. He had found her in her bedroom, a knife aimed at her own chest, distraught over the death of her husband while he fought in the war of the Jülich Succession. Francis offered her a new life, just as Sebastian had been given. Elizabeth accepted, staying a 16 year-old girl forever.

They had even tried to find another sister, this one named Claude. She was younger, at 14. She was with them for many years, until she could no longer be. She had displeased Henry most after she revealed herself to a boy in town that had caught her eye. Claude was reckless. Desperate to keep their identities secret (and furious with his daughter), Henry had ordered her death and assigned Bash the task. It would have broken his heart to kill his sister, had he one that was beating. But Henry would have done it if he could not have, and much less quickly too, so Bash had given his sister a kiss on the head when she was asleep before separating head from body. He had given his sister a proper burial the next morning.

Unlike Claude, Elizabeth was quiet and delicate. Sebastian and Francis had both taken her under their wing the moment she entered their family. They had been living in Scotland for the past 15 years, with Henry buying them their own castle with another man's gold. The castle had been nearly abandoned for a 100 years; it lay atop a hill, away from civilization, covered by mist and darkness.

Unless, of course, it was Spring. There was sunlight that reached the windows of the castle, but it was too covered by shadow to go too far in.

"Where do we put them in?" Francis asked.

Sebastian had been out feeding with his brother, roaming the streets as he had been doing for the last 15 years.

"Leave them," Sebastian's sharp teeth went back to their smaller size.

"Out here? What made you change your mind? The dark alleys have always worked so well," Francis smirked.

"To send a message."

"I was not even aware we _were_ trying to send one."

Sebastian turned to his brother, and took him by the collar of his coat. Both of their eyes and teeth had returned to their human form. "The next time you try to engage the men into an argument, do not do it so publicly," He released the hold on Francis.

"Ah," a knowing smile stretched over his young brother's face. "The man really got you angry, did he, when he hit you over the head with his drink?"

"And his friend," Sebastian looked to the other man, the one his brother had been feeding on, "made his last mistake when he picked up his paddle and tried to knock me out with it. Where do you think he got it, anyway? Seems a bit misplaced in a bar."

"Sailor?" Francis seemed untethered by a man carrying a paddle with him. "You really think leaving them here is the right course of action? They know our faces."

"You forget, little brother, that the entire bar was involved. It could have been anyone."

The two walked away, waiting until they were out of sight to run back to the castle at their full speed.

"Bash!"

Sebastian stopped at the door, knowing who it could have been. There was only one person who called him by that name.

"Elizabeth, what are you doing inside? There are so many people outside tonight," Sebastian opened the doors to the library. "Go and have your fun."

"Will you not be joining me this evening?" She asked, following him into the room.

"Not tonight," he looked over the books on the shelves, and picked out _Great Expectations_, before settling himself in a chair. "Francis and I had our fair share of excitement."

She pouted. "Well, all right. You know Bash," she pointed to the book in his hands, "you have read that book 100 times."

"And I will read it 100 times more," he said simply, already too focused to hear her words.

"I will see you tomorrow night," she said, taking her leave.

"Enjoy yourself!" he called after her.

Once the doors were closed, Sebastian settled into his chair and read until the first light of the day was threatening to come into their home. He went to sleep in his coffin. They all had their own beds, but the light from outside was strong enough to go through their thick curtains this time of the year.

The next night, Sebastian took Elizabeth and Francis out with him. Henry would wander on his own every night, occasionally bringing home a feast for his children.

"Do your hear that?" Elizabeth looked away from her dinner to her brothers.

They listened. The sound was coming from far away but there was someone running quickly along the streets.

"Sebastian, we should go," Francis dropped the arm he was feeding on.

"You two go," Sebastian was not done.

"Sebastian, Henry will find us another," Francis tried to argue. "What are you doing?"

"Go!" Sebastian hissed. "I will be with you both shortly."

Francis took their sister's arm and pulled her up. They were out of sight before Sebastian could say another word.

He took the body and dragged it into a small, run-down street with homes deteriorating. There was no one around, half the town being asleep at this time of the night. The street was as dark as Sebastian's home, a street no one would see if they did not look carefully.

It was the perfect place to hide bodies at night.

Sebastian hid at the corner of the main street and the small street. There was a street light on the other side of the corner.

He listened carefully. The footsteps were light but it was the crying that caught his attention. That of a young woman.

He stood still, thankful for once that he need not breathe in this dead life. For she was breathing, a sound Sebastian had not heard for centuries, except for those who were seconds from death in his hands. The girl was on the other side of the wall, so close that he could reach out his fingers and touch hers. He looked down, his eyes widening. Her hands were but an inch away from his. He could barely see the tip of her fingers. Sebastian stood in the shadows; she stood under the street light.

And there she stayed for minutes, her breath evened out when she took control of herself. The girl ran away when voices from close by rose. It was only a lady and a man (a man Sebastian knew was only for the night) but the girl took off down the street. Sebastian waited until the woman was gone with her client before leaving.

Who was that girl?

She had been barefoot, her clothes hidden by the long cloak that covered nearly her entire body. He had only seen her hands and her long, dark hair. It was a curious thing.

Bash went back to the castle as quickly as possible, the sound of the girl's cries never leaving his thoughts.

He entered the house and stopped. It was almost too quiet.

Listening more closely and laughing quietly to himself, he walked to the ballroom doors and opened them. It was just as he had expected.

"I'm hurt that I was not invited."

Henry, Francis, and Elizabeth were scattered around the room. Bash looked at the ground. There had to have been at least three people for each one in his family. Most lay dead.

"Your invitation must have gotten lost somewhere in the house," his sister told him, finishing off one before looking to him. "Do accept my apologies."

"Forgiven," Bash told her. "Possibly."

"Might this," Elizabeth looked around and held up a limp arm, "get me back in your good graces again?"

"Not tonight Lizzie," Bash sat in an armchair and closed his eyes. "I'm afraid I am still recovering from last night. I think I might have swallowed skin."

"Would that have been your first time doing so?"

"No it would not be, but that one seemed to have had a revolting odor surrounding him throughout his life," Bash opened his eyes. "I think I will read a book tonight, give you three some company."

"Which book?" Francis spoke up, red falling from his lips.

"I think I am in the mood for Great Expectations," Bash answered. "Or perhaps, Frankenstein. Lizzie, would you pick a book for me?"

"I hate when you call me that."

"Just as I hate not receiving my invitation to a dinner party," he snapped his fingers and pointed to the wall of library in the next room. "The night is not getting any younger, my dear sister."

Elizabeth had nothing to say to that, so she walked out of the room, into the library and the bookshelves (carefully avoiding staining her shoes with the blood in the room) and picked out a book. She came back with one in her hand. "Frankenstein for you."

"Thank you," he opened the pages and began to read. Henry had taught him how to read shortly after he had turned.

"Have you not read that book a hundred times?"

"I have read every book in that library a hundred times and I will read each one a hundred times more," he answered, deep into his reading.

"Fine, if you must," she stomped over to whomever was still alive. Bash chuckled. Elizabeth was like that. Always so opinionated.

Bash stayed with his family until Henry asked him, as usual, to take care of the bodies by burial or burning.

Francis and Bash were out for hours, burning and burying. They went back inside just as the sun was starting to come out.

Henry left the three of them on their own the next night as he usually did. This time it was different. Elizabeth left her brothers to go on her own, coming back hours later with what she called exciting news.

"You two will not believe what I have just heard."

"Where did you go? How far?" Bash demanded.

"Relax, I did not wander very far. I was becoming acquainted with the townspeople."

"Elizabeth," Bash said in a warning tone.

"Trust me not to make the same mistake Claude did. Now, do you mind if I tell you what I heard? I feel as if I am about to burst."

"Tell us," Francis urged.

"There is a party," both her brothers looked at each other. Elizabeth placed her hands on her hips. "Do not laugh until I have told you everything. As I was beginning to tell you, there is a party tomorrow night. It is a party given by Count Donaghue and his wife, in honor of the Count's business partner, Count Blackthorne. I am told that it will be filled with people of their status and reputation."

"And why does interest you?" Bash asked.

"There will be many people. And they have connections. If we are to get into their circles, we just might have a way in. Think about it. No doubt people will be reported missing or dead. Becoming acquainted with Counts is a way for us to not raise any suspicion."

"Nobody ever sees us though," Francis argued.

"News of murders and missing people are front-page stories. Do you not think that everyone who walks alone will not be walking with others? Or that police are not going to be on the streets, all night?"

"So we do to everyone what we have always done."

"And risk exposure?" She asked, before turning to Bash. "Sebastian, think about it."

He was. "Why are you so eager to go to this party? We could meet a Count or Countess at any time. We only must dress the part."

Elizabeth's face fell. "This would allow me to have my own party when my birthday comes. I can see what a party is like if we go tomorrow night."

"You want a birthday party?" Bash asked. "Your birthday is in the summer months. Guests will be going home just as the day goes dark."

"Not unless we have an enormous celebration. Oh, Bash, imagine how thrilled Henry will be when I bring all those people to him!"

"Obviously, nobody would notice all those Counts and Countesses missing? There are so many flaws in your plan, my dear sister, but as I can never say no to you, I will accept your invitation to join you tomorrow night at this Count Donahue's party."

"And Count Blackthorne," she reminded him "He and his wife are the main guests of the evening."

"Count Donaghue and Count Blackthorne," Bash repeated the names. "Sounds exciting. Francis, will you be joining us?"

"No," his brother refused. "Just bring one back, you hear?"

"We are not going for that reason," Bash said. "We will do that before the party."

"Well, all right," Francis agreed.

"Be thankful that we live in these times," Bash told him. "Or you and I would be wearing those godawful hair wigs to this party."

"That was a monstrous time, indeed," Elizabeth agreed.

"Elizabeth will enjoy herself, you will find your own entertainment, and I shall control my temper if anyone dares to overstep their boundaries," Bash was speaking of those at the party. Over the years, the name given to him the night of his rebirth had become him. He took pride in calling himself the Darkness.

"Shall we tell Henry of this?" Francis asked.

"No, he will not care to be around them," Bash answered.

"How do you expect to find a dress?" Francis turned to their sister. "We cannot go into the shops in the day."

"No, we cannot. I suppose I will have to go into an empty shop at night," Elizabeth said.

"Good, it's settled then. Francis, you will accompany her to the shops, keep her out of trouble and I will find us a way in," Bash said.

His decision was met with complaints.

Francis looked appalled. "You cannot expect me to help our sister try on _dresses_!"

"Why do I need security?" Elizabeth asked at the same time.

Bash lifted a hand up. The other two went quiet immediately. "Francis, you will do as I ask without argument. Elizabeth, you said yourself that there will be police out on the streets."

"But not-"

"Now? Maybe not, but just do as I ask. Please?"

"Fine," she crossed her arms. "But do not think for a second that I am happy about this arrangement."

"I would never dream of it," he told her. "Tomorrow night, Francis, you will help our sister find something to wear and I will get us the clothing we need. Are we clear?"

So they did. Francis, of course, argued until Bash got angry. But he went with his sister as Bash found them clothing. They were done with everything in less than an hour. They entered a tavern to change their clothing and Elizabeth led them to the party. When nobody was in sight, they stopped walking and sped to the gates of Count Donaghue's estate.

"Which one is Count Donaghue?" Bash asked his sister.

"Should I know?" she whispered. "I only heard his name in passing. I know nothing of him."

They looked among the crowd. There were carriages lined in front, with men and women climbing in and out. Bash examined the people closely.

"Shall we try to fit in?" Elizabeth linked an arm with each brother.

"What shall our names be?" Francis looked over to Bash.

"Sebastian, Elizabeth, and Francis," Bash was looking at a man and his wife. "De Poitiers. We have come to Scotland from France. If they want to know why, do not tell them. Let me do the talking. Francis, I believe I see Count Donaghue and his wife. Why don't you help Elizabeth make acquaintances while I get us in with our host?"

Francis led his sister away as Bash approached their host.

"Pardon my interruption, but I was told to introduce myself to our host," Sebastian gave a small bow. "Are you Count Donaghue? You are spoken highly of in these areas."

Count Donaghue was a cheerful, middle-aged who introduced his wife with great pride. The Countess smiled and held her hand out for Bash to kiss.

"May I introduce my business partner and close friend, James Blackthorne," Count Donaghue looked to another man that stood with him.

"Count Blackthorne," the man corrected his friend. "And you might be?"

"Sebastian de Poitiers," Bash held his hand out for Count Blackthorne to shake. The man only jumped back.

"Your hands are cold," he said, looking Bash in the eye.

Bash rubbed his hands together. "I apologize."

"May I introduce my wife, the Countess? Mary, do not be rude." Count Blackthorne motioned to a woman, not much older than Elizabeth. Her eyes wide and brown, her hair long and dark.

Bash took her hand, looking the Countess in the eyes. "Your Grace," he whispered against her hand before kissing it.

Count Blackthorne had a beautiful wife indeed.

**Sorry for the delay! Summer classes started and I've been distracted by the World Cup. I wrote this chapter in two hours so I promise to make the next one better! Lol. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Bit of a day jump with the italics being the flashbacks =). Sorry for taking a month to update! This is just going to be a small chapter with Mary thinking about Bash. I have to get ready to go to L.A for my cousin's wedding this weekend (which I'm a bridesmaid in) so there wasn't much time to write**

"Mary...Mary...MARY!"

Mary jumped in her seat. James was looking at her with a frown on his face, while Count Donaghue and his wife looked at her questioningly.

"I am so sorry. What was that, dear?"

Her husband did not answer, merely continuing his discussion with Count Donaghue and his wife, the woman who was also the mistress of Mary's husband. It was a poorly kept secret. James did not believe Mary knew anything about that, not when his friend and business partner was completely ignorant about it.

Yet, her thoughts were not with them tonight. Merely, they were on the stranger her husband had introduced to her last night. He was tall, as white as snow, with the most beautiful eyes she had ever looked into. He was also much younger than her husband and Count Donaghue, yet carried himself with as much as grace as everyone else.

There had been something else as well.

He was so cold.

Even through the gloves which covered her, she could feel it. His hands were like ice on a cold winter's day. And when his lips had touched her hands, they sent a shiver up her spine. So cold. He had apologized for it when her husband mentioned it, but did not give the reason.

_"Your grace," the stranger said, smiling up at her._

_ She stared, speechless. _

_ "Mary," her husband urged._

_ "Pleasure," she said to the man. _

_ He stood up straight. "Count Sebastian de Poitiers. How do you do?"_

_ "Very well," she answered, still looking at him, curiously. There was something different about him. "How do you do on this night, Count de Poitiers?"_

_ "Perfect," he said to her, before turning to her husband. "I am afraid I am not able to stay for long tonight. I am here with my brother and my sister and they are to awake early in the morning for business."_

_ "I see," Count Blackthorne looked around. "And where are they?"_

_ "No idea right now. I would assume meeting the other guests," Count de Poitiers did not even look around him. _

_ "What are their names?"_

_ "Francis and Elizabeth," he answered with no hesitation. _

_ "Forgive us, Count, we have not offered you any food to eat!" Count Donaghue spoke up. "Shall we ask the servants what you want?"_

_ "No," Count de Poitiers said rather quickly. "My family and I ate prior to our arrival."_

_ "Before a party?" Count Donaghue asked, drunk on wine. "My boy, why would you ever think to do such a thing and bring yourself to all that trouble, rather than coming here and feeding off another man's wealth?"_

_ "I would not wish to be a nuisance," he merely replied. "I wished to come because Count Donaghue was spoken so highly of."_

_ Count Donaghue patted Count de Poitiers on the shoulder. "Shall I introduce you to my friends and acquaintances? Oh, why shall I even wait for an answer? Of course I will!" Count de Poitiers took one last look to Mary before following Count Donaghue._

He had left that night with whom Mary presumed to be Francis and Elizabeth. The boy had golden locks and the girl had hair as dark as her brother's. They were gone before anyone could notice.

Mary had thought about him all day. She was curious.

"Well, this has been a most pleasant evening," Count Donaghue stood up, his wife following suit. "But I am afraid my wife and I must retire for the night."

Mary and James stood up as well.

"So early?" James asked his friend.

"Some of us have work in the morning James," Count Donaghue gave him a proud smile. "I am a working man, after all!"

"Very well," James shook his friend's hand and kissed Countess Donaghue on the cheek. "We will see you lot later."

Mary excused herself, also retiring for the evening. Count Blackthorne went into his study, as she went into their room. Aylee, a young servant girl not much younger than Mary herself, helped her into getting ready for the evening. Mary allowed Aylee to leave once she was finished. It was for the best. Mary needed time to herself, grateful James had not asked her again if she was ready to bear a child. They had already lost one months ago before Mary was showing.

Instead, she took out her book and quill, writing her private thoughts. James may have been 20 years older than she, and a husband she had never wanted, but she did love that he respected her privacy as much as she did his. Her parents had put her into this marriage, when she had caught his eye at a party. A year later, she was still a child, at 19 years of age. One year later and James was already bored with his own wife, choosing to give his affections to his darling mistress, the wife of his dear best friend no less!

Mary stared at the page. Her quill had made a hole in the paper.

"Oh dear," Mary muttered to herself. Was she so angry?

No, it wasn't anger.

Sadness, maybe?

She should have run away when her parents had told her of their plans to marry her to Count Blackthorne. The first several months of their marriage had been happy enough. James was gone more than he was not, but he did try to make her happy and she opened her heart to him. Much had changed since the loss of their child.

And now here she was, unable to think of what to write. Perhaps because there was nothing about the day that she wanted to remember.

She could, however, write about the previous night.

Mary did not understand why she was so fascinated with Sebastian de Poitiers. She was not sure if she had written his name properly when she did, but she found herself writing down everything that she remembered of him- his eyes, his skin as white as snow, the red of his lips, the coldness of his touch, his hair as dark as the night sky. . .

Mary stopped writing and smiled to herself. He was a very handsome stranger.

Oh, she wished to see him again.

He had discussed business with Count Donaghue, but not with her husband. However, as James was his business partner, there was a small chance Count de Poitiers would come back.

She just hoped it would be sooner rather than later.

**Mary's got a little crush lol. **

** No, this won't be Twilight where vampires can have babies. I just wanted to give Mary some angst since she lost a baby. **

**Review? =D**


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